An Irish love story: Jokes, love and a bit of heaven

There is a special comedy club with exclusive membership. The only requirement is a pure Irish bloodline.

When Father Billy O’Riordan, the pastor of St. Ann Church and Shrine in Metairie, begins speaking, there is no question about his bloodline or his gift of gab.

When Father Billy  took the microphone in the front of the bus one morning on the recently concluded Clarion Herald pilgrimage to Ireland and Scotland, he looked up at the blue sky that contained a mocking hint of menacing gray clouds on the horizon.

“You know, in Ireland, they say it rains only twice a week,” Father Billy said, pausing for effect. “Once for three days and the other for four.” 

That joke, and there were many, drew chuckles from the 42 pilgrims, most from the Archdiocese of New Orleans, who took Clarion Herald-sponsored, 10-day tour.

One of the fascinating moments of the pilgrimage came outside of the churches and the castles that comprised the official program. Colman Moloney, our Irish-born bus driver, was motoring with expert nonchalance on winding, narrower-than-you-could-ever-imagine two-lane roads that curved through fields of infinite shades of green. 

As our bus passed just to the left of Father Billy’s hometown – Macroom, County Cork, in southeast Ireland – the Irish priest told a chilling story.

Father Billy was one of the Irish seminarians recruited to serve in New Orleans by then-Archbishop Philip Hannan, an Irishman himself who needed priests.

Archbishop Hannan went so far as to promise his Irish seminarians that he would ordain them in their home parish, and he did that in 1985 for Father Billy.

“Oh, the parties went on for three straight nights,” Father Billy said, recalling the gleeful experience for his parents and his siblings and the entire population of Macroom.

“There’s a saying about Macroom – ‘Macroom never raised a fool’ – but I have a question about that,” Father Billy told his fellow pilgrims.

Macroom also was home to the estate of William Penn, the England-born founder of Pennsylvania.

Father Billy pointed out a spot on the N22 highway where in 1990 – five years after his ordination – he was severely injured after his car was T-boned by another vehicle. He suffered skull and pelvis fractures and broke several ribs. To this day, the nerve that controls the tear duct on his right eye doesn’t work properly, requiring him to use eyedrops to create tears.

“I spent two weeks in the hospital,” he said. “I could not walk. It’s a miracle I can walk like I can today.”

Father Billy then spotted a small road to the left that led up a gentle hill to his family’s farm. He grew up on the farm, and his father bred and trained horses that became legendary on the Irish show-jumping circuit.

Even though both of his parents are deceased, the family’s successful horse business continues, with the Irish Draught horses commanding attention and winning competitive prizes inside and outside of Ireland.

“All of our horses have passports,” Father Billy said. “I’m serious.”

One of them – an Irish Draught nicknamed Magpie – always rode up front when escorting Queen Elizabeth through the streets of London.

Maybe the British didn’t realize Magpie had an Irish passport.

The life of the horseman came into sharper focus when Father Billy recalled the final months of his dad’s life. Patrick O’Riordan began to develop dementia, and the wicked illness began to rob him of most of his physical faculties.

Father Billy’s sister Mary would hear nothing of putting her father in a nursing home.

“Oh, my God, every day, she fed him and washed him,” Father Billy recalled. “I always wondered why my father never developed bed sores. Mary would always be there  rubbing oil on his skin. There is no question Mary is going straight to heaven.”

Mary, a horse breeder herself,  used her intuition to care for her father. Every morning, after breakfast, she would guide him to a soft chair facing out to the fields through a full-length window in their house.

From there, Patrick could pass the time, watching over the purebred horses he used to groom and oil and teach to jump on command.

The O’Riordan bloodline runs deep.

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